


Metropolis Confessional

by ssa_archivist



Category: Smallville
Genre: Crossover, Futurefic, Humor, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-10-17
Updated: 2004-10-17
Packaged: 2017-11-01 07:17:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,720
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/353636
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ssa_archivist/pseuds/ssa_archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Harry met.um, Clark.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Metropolis Confessional

## Metropolis Confessional

by Missu

[]()

* * *

A special thank you to my beta goddess, Kirsten. Feedback is appreciated like sweet nectar. 

* * *

Clark was tired. Saving Metropolis regularly from assorted criminals and the occasional monster wasn't easy work, and the fight with Lex in the morning hadn't started the day in the best of ways. Having a boyfriend as difficult as Lex should be illegal. And he was right this time, darn it. If Lex expected him go home and offer groveling apologies, then he had another thing coming. 

So that's why he was standing in front of the bar he'd named `I Fought With My Boyfriend, I Don't Want To Go Home, So I'll Go Here To Get Drunk.' Lois maybe had a point when she said he needed to make his phrasing a bit snappier. The bar was just nondescript enough to feel cozy, and the bartender had a soft spot for mild mannered reporters who occasionally came to drown their sorrows. 

Fortunately Clark didn't have any problems getting drunk. In fact, Kryptonian physiology handled alcohol pretty badly. A few people had even called Clark a pathetic lightweight on occasion. Well, a few people being Pete. 

Fred the bartender waved to him as he made his way in. It was quite busy, packed even, but still had the anonymous and comfortable quality he needed right now. Clark made his way to the counter, pushing through the crowds. 

"Here again, Kent? Want the usual?" 

Clark could only shrug. He _had_ been fighting with Lex more often lately. 

"If you want to wallow, then I've got perfect company for you." Before Clark could even start to shake his head his usual brand of beer was shoved into his hands and Fred continued: "See that guy in the corner booth? An English guy, just pops in here sometimes and broods for a couple of hours. Like he has the weight of the world on his shoulders. Just your type. You even have the same taste in outdated eyewear." 

Feeling indignant, Clark adjusted his glasses and took his pitcher of beer over to the dark corner where the guy sat nursing his own beer. Not that Clark was a _total_ pushover. This was the only available seat in the house. 

"Mind if I join you? It's quite full here tonight." 

A surprised pair of eyes rose to meet his but the guy shrugged and nodded. He had even messier hair than Clark. 

"I'm Clark." 

The guy offered his hand. "Harry." 

* * *

An hour later, the amount of beer consumed: enough 

"...and then he had the gall to say that I don't have time for _him_. That saving the world shouldn't be as important as being with _him_! That little pampered shi...poophead!" 

Clark's ranting had apparently penetrated through Harry's beer-infested brain because he looked a bit confused. Time for recovery. Doing the `I can drink the whole pitcher with one swallow' probably wouldn't do the trick this time. 

"Err, I mean, the world figuratively, of course. Being a reporter sometimes feels like saving the world." 

Harry just nodded a bit sluggishly as if he knew exactly how Clark felt. His drinking buddy was _so_ great. Finally, a sympathetic ear that didn't belong to his mom. From now on Clark was going to call this booth `The Universal Sitting Place of Men with Difficult Boyfriends, Who Totally Understand Each Other.' Or maybe something a little shorter. 

"I know. I know. My boyfriend just sneers and calls me Potter when I just try to do what's _right_. I mean, I'm not saying that I'm the only savior of our...err...company but sometimes it feels like that." Harry waved to the passing waiter with a long stick he had while pointing to his empty glass. Soon they had newly filled beers. It was like magic. 

"And he thinks I shout at people too easily when I'm upset" said Clark. "What's that about?" 

* * *

An hour later, whiskey on the menu 

"It's just so frustrating," Harry complained. "His family has so much money and I'm just this regular guy, you know? I feel like I should be able to trace my family-tree centuries back. And don't get me started on his family!" 

Clark paused his quest to build a new Fortress of Solitude made of empty shot glasses and lowered his voice to a conspiratorial whisper:"I think his dad might be Satan." 

Harry mirrored Clark's slouching form over the table and whispered back "Does he have weird flowing hair?" 

Amazing. Clark could only nod. 

"It's the hair." Harry seemed to know what he was talking about so Clark happily nodded in agreement. Maybe Satan did have weird hair. Harry muttered something into his glass about the whiskey being on fire but Clark couldn't see any flames. Hopefully he wasn't so drunk that his heat vision had started acting up. The nice waitress would surely stop serving their table if Clark did anything...flaming. 

* * *

An hour later, whiskey has turned into vodka shots 

"You're a bit pissed, aren't you Clark?" 

"I _know_! Sometimes he makes me so mad!" 

"No, I mean, you're drunk." 

"Well, yeah." 

* * *

An hour later, margaritas consumed - three each 

"I admit that he's really fit." Harry tipped his glass upside down and pulled faces at his reflection."Pale perfect skin. Just lickable. If only he wasn't an insufferable git. He seems to think he's destined to be this evil rich guy, no matter how many times I try to tell him he's being daft." 

Clark was starting to think that maybe Lex was dating Harry on the side. That was exactly how it was between him and Lex. Well, except the daft part. He hadn't called Lex _that_. Ever. And daft was such a great word. Daaaaaft. He should carve that word on the table top. Right next to `Bob was here'. 

* * *

An hour later, Fred won't serve them anymore 

"...he does this _thing_ with his tongue. Cocksucking is really an art with him. I think it's a boarding school thing. He went to one when he was young. I think boarding schools might be really kinky places." Clark's loving ode to Lex's sexual prowess, waving hands and an occasional rude gesture included, was interrupted by Harry's coughing fit. Clark waited until it passed and then continued: "And we have this roleplaying going on sometimes. We pretend to be mortal enemies and then have really hot sex afterwards." 

Clark couldn't be sure because of all the smoke in the air but Harry's gaze had turned a little dazed and wistful. 

"Yeah, it's dead brilliant when that happens..." 

* * *

An hour later, closing time 

The bar was emptying and only a few people were around anymore. Clark and Harry were both slumped in their seats and fiddling with their margarita umbrellas. The silence stretched. Maybe it was all the alcohol or the fact that he'd had the opportunity to vent his troubles to Harry but now Clark couldn't even really remember what the fight with Lex had been about. All he knew was that he missed Lex desperately. Too bad Lex had made it perfectly clear this morning that he didn't want to see a glimpse of any superpowered Kryptonians for awhile. Clark really could do with a few... 

"Kisses. The kisses are the best." Harry had shredded his paper umbrella and apparently decided to interrupt their silent brooding. "We can just kiss for hours and hours and it's perfect. He's in my arms and all I can feel is..." 

"Love." Clark finished the sentence. 

"Yeah. Listen, Clark. I have to go now. It was brilliant talking to you but I have to get back to my flat. I hope this covers my part of the drinks." Harry hurriedly shoved a wad of bills on the table so fast that some of them floated on the floor. As Clark bent down to pick them up, he heard a loud crack. When he emerged from under the table, Harry was gone. 

Clark didn't feel he had any right to be upset about that. It wasn't as if he hadn't done the disappearing act himself. Unfortunately that didn't make him feel any better. Clark let out a big sigh. 

Of course, Clark's big sigh made all the bills on the table flutter furiously in all directions and back under the table. The night was ending in a high note. Just his luck. And the floor was _really_ dirty. Ew. 

Just as he was about to stand up, he noticed a pair of expensive loafers in his line of sight. The loafers were attached to legs covered in luxuriously tailored slacks. As Clark tried to see the rest of the person who had such lovely legs he bumped his head on the corner of the table. The thump was uncomfortably loud. Clark winced as he got up. The table was fractured, he just knew it. 

Lex was lounging in his usual style - hands in his pockets and posture relaxed. But the shoulders still held a shiver of tension. Clark kind of liked that. 

"Hey, Lex." 

Clark was proud of his restraint. No `What are you doing here?' or `Lost any arguments with your boyfriend lately?'. Nonchalant coolness was the way to go. 

Lex smiled a little. "Clark. I thought you might like a ride home." 

Clark tried indignant coolness next. "I thought you said you didn't want to see my `spandex-clad ass' for awhile." 

"I apologize for this morning." Lex shifted a little, turning his gaze to the floor. "We've both been under a lot of pressure lately. I'd just like you to come home with me now. The penthouse feels lonely without you." Lex hesitated. " _I_ feel lonely." 

Lex didn't plead with anyone but that was getting pretty close. Clark decided to throw any kind of coolness out of the window and opt for `ridiculously smitten'. 

"Ok. But I totally won. _And_ I get to be the cool villain next time we play mortal enemies." He'd learned all of his negotiating skills from Lex, after all. 

Apparently Lex had decided to be graceful in defeat, because he just nodded and took Clark's hand while heading for the exit. The night couldn't get any better. Well, maybe with one thing. 

"Can we make out in the car? That would be bloody brilliant." 


End file.
